Surrounded by Perjury
by DTDerpy
Summary: It's the 1930s, and the Weimar Republic has just been transformed into Nazi Germany. Young Karin has taken a fancy to the new and stunning Adolf Hitler. Klaus, her best friend, helps her uncover things that should have stayed buried, all while trying to maintain a normal life, even though they feel like outcasts among their own people.


I am awestruck. The way his arms move fiercely, this way and that way, all around, captures me. My body sways with his hands while my eyes watch the lighting dance on his face. I feel like I understand him on a different level than all the others. More importantly, I feel like he understands me on a different level than all the others. As he speaks his next words to the horde of people, I imagine him standing on a podium looking over the world, sending us all a message about what a real country should be like. I was lucky to get this close.

I feel a nudge in my right side, followed by a pinch and a swift pull of my hair. "What?" I curtly say as I meet the blue eyes of Klaus. He grins. The young man is interrupting my thoughts about the Führer, and he knows it angers me to no end. I quickly reach two fingers to his blond hair and yank downwards; his eyes widen, and a yelp surfaces over the crowd.

"Hey!" he laughs, "I wanted to make sure that you're still up for coming to my house tonight?"

I peel my eyes off Hitler once more and as I answer, the crowd of approximately 6,000 cheers so loud that my attention is diverted. My eyes quickly scan the stage to see that Hitler is no longer there, and I panic. I had hoped to see him after the speech. I even acquired some information from an acquaintance of where his departing ride would be! "Klaus!" I shout as I begin running, "We must go!" I don't look back after I link our hands together. We swim through the population like fish through dense weeds, swaying when the plants sway and dodging the rushing current.

"Karin," Klaus speaks, pulling on my hand. I look back quickly, still moving, and make a questioning face. "What are we doing? Why are we-" a stranger bumps into him, sending him an awful look. "Why are we running? I am tired, we must stop." He gives me, I must admit, an adorable face of anguish.

"No! We will miss Adolf."

"Liebling, there will be more chances. Please, I am tired, and it has been a rough day at work. I just want to relax at home with my girl," he tells me, even going as far as to form a sly smirk. I stop and turn to him, quickly thinking of the pros and cons. It will be a while before the Führer has another speech, and I don't know if I will have the same chance I have now. Although, as I look at my best-friend-of-19-years face, his soft blond hair, his high cheekbones, strong jaw, and blazing eyes, I realize that he doesn't always get to relax. I know he always has a hard time at his workplace, and I know that he gets picked on because of how flamboyant he acts.

I sigh and close my eyes, opening them again to see Klaus' laughing face. He knows I have given in because of "Liebling", meaning "lover". It has sentimental value, and he always saves it for special occasions. We begin walking back towards our neighborhood in Munich, my small heels clicking on the deep red bricks of the sidewalk, reminding me of horse's hooves.

"Awesome! Thank you, Mäuschen." He grabs my hand after he calls me his cute nickname that he thinks he made up. "I have planned a fun evening for us. We are going to work on homework, obviously, but then we will party like crazy. Mom also had made some cookies the night before..." he continues, but my attention drifts when a car passes. I casually look into the windows, and I meet the eyes of Adolf. Before the sleek, black car fully passes, he seems to gleam at me. Tingles shoot up my spine, my eyes visibly widen, and my face heats up all at once as I trip over my feet. Klaus doesn't notice, and I am grateful, for that would have been immensely embarrassing.

As we continue on our way, I slowly lose the exciting memory of Hitler in the car. It is gradually replaced by Klaus doing very silly things in public late at night. We eventually make it up the steps of Klaus' small house, but it was quite difficult to avoid the looks of other citizens because of our behavior. I have no doubt that we seemed as we had just come from the nearest bar, having drank it all up. Since we have been laughing for so long, we practically crawl up the four concrete steps and into the red front door. Klaus quickly sobers up and slowly opens the door, moving his index finger to his lips and shoves me inside.

I acknowledge that it is at least past midnight, and I remember that Mr. Schulz doesn't like to be woken up; It agitates him greatly. As we creep through the common room and kitchen, the colossal, wooden clock near the fireplace chimes with a deep vibration and makes me jump. "It is one o'clock in the morning when we infiltrate the classified and undisclosed chamber of Führer Klaus," I speak, breaking the silence. I get giggles in return.

"Ah, yes," he smirks and suddenly turns towards me, taking the pose of an army man. "Stand tall, soldier!" He lightly shouts, and I scramble into position. "Nice hustle." He slowly walks around me, studying. When he makes his way to the front of me, he asks condescendingly, "What shall we do first?"

"Party, sir."

"So you think."

"Yes, sir!" I attempt to hold in my laughs, but I prove to be incapable as snickers emerge.

Klaus' face becomes excessively stern, and if I didn't known better, I would be truly scared. "Well then." He shows me a sly smile, and I do believe he has developed an evil plan. I quickly list things that could help me in a pillow fight (which is usually what our arguments turn to): his desk, my secretly stashed weapon, and my pure strength.

Klaus dives for me, arms open and face determined, but I am ready. I leap for my hidden pillow behind the headboard of the small bed and spin around, planning on smacking Klaus in the face, but he dives under, then up and grabs my torso. Flinching, I drop my pillow and grab onto his shoulders, wrapping my arms around his neck and preparing to be thrown. As expected, I fly through the air at a tremendous speed and land on the bed, making the springs creak and the headboard hit the wall behind. Slowly opening my eyes, I watch as my freund steadily makes his way over in an intimidating way, knowing he has won this war.

I cower under the covers as I think he reaches out to me with one hand, yet he doesn't grab me. He grabs the end of the blanket, swiftly pulling some of it loose out from under me, and then forces it around me, thrusting it under me so it is tight. I try to wiggle free, but soon surrender as I understand that my attempts are futile against Klaus' brute strength. He just laughs.

"You look like my cousin's mettwurst!" He bends over, supporting his abdomen because he is chuckling so hard. My ears heat up at his mentioning of me looking like a sausage.

"I do not!"

"Oh, yes you do, my girl."

"Klaus," I whine, "get me out. This is not fair." I beg him to help, but he does not listen, so I angrily call out, "Klaus Derick Schulz."

After calling him his full name, he listens and unties me. I get out and start to stretch, but hastily make a fist and strike it into his bulk of muscle, also known as his bicep. It does not affect him at all. I don't know why I still try to physically hurt him, it never works.

After our time of playing around, doing homework, and gossiping, we both decided that I should just stay the night. So when it gets light outside, and the early birds chirp, we snuggle into bed. I sleep comfortably, knowing my parents understood that I was most likely going to stay at Klaus' anyways.

The next few days are a blur as we are engrossed in school work again. We have a project due in a week about the United States of America (which none of us care about since we all know they're not going to be as great as we are). Klaus and I are walking home after work, and as we turn down the corner to our street, four boys present themselves with horrid manners. They slowly creep up to Klaus, and in the light I realize that they work at the shop next to us back at the bakery. The oldest of them, Hans, walks right up to Klaus' face, staring him down, and says, "Look what the Jews dragged in." They all laugh. I immediately feel offended and need to protect my friend. As I go to step forward, Klaus gently puts one hand up to me, telling me to go home and not to worry. I don't listen because I know that we can take on these boys who look like weak mice compared to my bär.

"Please," Klaus begs, "not before Karin." He moves both his hands in front of himself, and I pout, feeling left out.

"I do what I want to queers," says Hans before pulling his right arm back and propelling it towards Klaus' face. I hear a BWOK, a quiet grunt, and multiple laughs all at once. I flinch away, scared to look back. As I swiftly think of ways to help, my eyes meet a plank of some sort near the road, so I scramble towards it. Grabbing it tightly, I spin around and come face to face with Rudolf, one of the boys. If he wasn't bullying us, I might consider dating him. He smirks, reaching for my weapon, but I am faster. His arm passes my shoulder and I swing my arm around, clutching the tool and bringing it to his head. He shouts as he goes down, and just for safety, I hit him again. The plank falls out of my hand, and I shift towards the real fight.

Two boys are on the ground, silent, and Klaus is over the third. I watch as his bruised hand goes up towards the sky and then rapidly plummets down, seemingly through the bully's face. I snap myself into motion once I realise what is happening. He is loosing control. "Klaus," I whisper, moving my hand slowly to his swinging arm. My hand makes contact and his muscles clench. His head whips towards my hand, and his eyes travel up my arm to my face. I see recognition appear upon his features, then disappointment. He knows what he has done. A plop sounds as he carelessly drops his hold on the injured lad's shirt, causing the ragdoll effect.

Klaus steps back and surveys the damage. I focus in on his face because I know that he has hurt himself tonight. He hates when he loses control and always tries to hide it from me. I always tell him that it does not bother me, but he refuses to listen. "Klaus," I utter. "Hey." I reach up and grab his face, bringing it to mine and pushing our foreheads together like when we were young. "Listen to me. I know we practically massacred these people," we both chuckle, "but we made it."

He laughs, nods his head, and stands straight. I grab his hand, like always, and suggest that we go to my place. If his dad saw his knuckles and bloody clothes, we would both be dead. "I'll get you clean like new."

My bedroom window slides open quietly, creating a secret entrance for us to use. I go in first, using the extra time to grab a washcloth and warm bowl of water from the restroom. As I re-enter my room, I see Klaus propped in my desk chair, waiting for me. I let the bowl along with the cloth easily glide from my hands and onto the desk before pulling up another chair. I get the cloth wet and then move it to Klaus' face, carefully dabbing at his numerous cuts along his jawline. Back and forth I go from the bowl to my friend's face, wishing he was here with me instead of being stuck in his thoughts. It is not his fault he doesn't act like the other boys. I know for sure he likes girls, I just wish that others would see it, too. So what if he likes to have fun? Why do people have to kill his happiness?

I feel my face tightening, so I try to relax for Klaus; he is already worked up enough. The cloth goes into the now red stained bowl, and I take a second to look at my work. It is then that I notice the tears. My heart shatters, and I suddenly feel this aching pull in my chest as I watch the most important person in my life break down and weep because no one understands him. He is handsome, smart, kind hearted, compassionate, and understanding, and I tell him all the time. It just seems as no matter what I do, it just isn't enough, and that kills me.

"Oh, Klaus. Come here." I whimper before he abruptly shoves his whole weight onto me. He buries his head into my neck, and I pet his head like my mother used to do for me when I was sick. It takes a while, but I eventually become aware of the hot tears on my own face. My throat becomes sore, it gets hard to breathe, and I feel like I had just been dry heaving for days.

"We will be okay," I promise as we hold each other tighter. "Just stay with me."


End file.
